


Glasgow Guy

by Rain_GellerBing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Musicians, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Flirting, I am sorry if Oliver comes off as a little creepy, I apologize in advance, I don't know how to flirt, I promise, I wrote the word "attempt" too much today, Implied Hook Up, M/M, Marcus is a little insecure, and very broke, attempt at flirting at least, attempt at writing lyrics, because I can't write smut to save my life so I just skipped that part, he is a ray of sunshine, he is not, slightly inspired by Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran, so my characters don't know how to either, tell me if I forgot something please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rain_GellerBing/pseuds/Rain_GellerBing
Summary: He played the fiddle in a Scottish bandBut he fell in love with an English manKissed him on the neck and then I took him by the handSaid, "baby, I just want to dance"





	Glasgow Guy

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when all your friends love Ed Sheeran. Like, all of them. And they keep playing his songs in the car and you know them by heart at this point.

Marcus' original plan was to go home, and damn wouldn't he have missed a lot if he had gone indeed.

 

As soon as he got out of the pub he lit a cigarette to keep himself company on the way home. He liked to go to the pub Adrian worked at because they had live music more evenings than not, and when they had nothing scheduled, good old Snape let him play and maybe offered him a couple of beers as payment. It wasn't much, but if you live for music like Marcus did, it was everything, especially if, like him, you don’t have a steady job.

 

Adrian was kind enough to let him crash on his couch for now, but he had to find a stupid job sooner, rather than later. After all, Adrian was just a student who worked at a pub, he couldn't manage to take care of the both of them with the scarce pay Snape gave him – often late.

 

Marcus inhaled the smoke, letting it burn all it could find, and then exhaled it. Maybe he would check at the mall again the next day, and if he couldn't find anything he would play around the food corner. Ron, a young bodyguard there, let him play because apparently he had recorded him and his girlfriend had liked his songs.

 

Of course she did. He was fucking amazing.

 

Well. If he had been he wouldn't be broke.

 

Whatever.

 

He really wanted to play that night. His fingers twitched, waiting for the moment they would touch the guitar strings and dance across it, his voice intertwining with the notes effortlessly, thanks to the love he felt for the music he was playing and the hard hours of practice, not to mention the long composition periods he needed to come up with the  _ right _ words for the  _ right _ music.

 

“Hey mate do you care to share?”

 

Marcus turned, caught off guard. He was still outside the Slytherin Snake, guitar in his left hand, and he found in front of him a guy. Well, a cute guy. At least, that was what he thought. Tall, messy hair, bright hazel eyes that gleamed in the poorly lit street in front of the pub. Very cute.

 

Share what?

 

“Share what? My wisdom?” Marcus replied sarcastically. Really, he was nervous because all he wanted to do was play. And that night at the Snake he couldn't, because stupid Snape had invited some weird Scottish band to play. That was why Marcus was heading home, and also the source of his bad mood.

 

The guy grinned. “I'll have to pass on that, you don't look like a very wisdom-y guy.” he commented, winking. Marcus rolled his eyes.

 

“I meant the cigarette. Can I share?”

 

Was... Was that guy flirting with him?

 

“You know... I always get a little nervous before playing and sharing a good smoke with a handsome bloke like you is going to calm me down.”

 

Yep the guy was definitely flirting with him, but that was not what Marcus' brain decided to focus on.

 

“Wait, you play?”

 

As if the thick Scottish accent, so rare to find around a place like Belfast, hadn't been a clue enough, the guy was carrying a bag containing what Marcus imagined could be a violin. No wait, it was a Scottish band, it could have been a fiddle.

 

Flirty Guy smiled bright, like Christmas had come early. “You here to listen?”

 

Marcus wanted to say no, he really wanted to go home, but something in the way the guy was looking at him was making his blood run hot and cold at the same time, and that hadn't happened... in a while. In a very long while. Dammit, when was the last time... ?

 

“Actually, I was going home.” he replied, handing to the guy his cigarette and smiling. A little flirting never killed anybody.

 

The other guy took the cigarette and smiled too. “And here I thought I could charm you with my good looks and my sexy accent... too bad, Guitar Hunk.”

 

Marcus couldn't help laughing at that, and the guy pretended to be offended. “Is your laugh an insult to my good looks?”

 

“Nah, it's just that your Scottish babbling isn't really that appealing to me, Flirty Fiddle.”

 

It was the other's turn to laugh, and Marcus smiled at that. He even had a cute laugh. Marcus knew that this was either going to end with him going home alone and heartbroken or him waking up in this guy's hotel room, and Marcus knew which option he preferred.

 

“So, you gonna stay or what?” the guy asked, and Marcus noticed that the guy wanted to look confident and cocky, but Marcus was good enough to sense some nervousness in his voice. That made him smile even wider.

 

“Well, if you ask me nicely.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Well, the truth is I still haven't checked out your ass, and if I don't like it... I'm sorry but that's a deal breaker for me, so I would go home right away.”

 

The guy laughed again, but this time the gleam in his eyes held a promise Marcus wanted him to keep.

 

“I bet you will follow me inside, then.” the guy winked, walking towards the door, swaying his hips a little too much. Marcus mentally thanked whoever invented skinny jeans and followed the fiddler in the Snake, where he felt, before seeing, Adrian's inquiring look. He just shrugged and went to sit in one of the empty boots, carefully noting that Flirty Fiddle was aware of where he was.

 

Marcus took in the long legs wrapped in the black, skinny jeans and the red flannel shirt as the guy was talking with two other big guys that looked too much like him to not be his brothers.

 

His staring was interrupted by the arrival of his stupid friend.

 

“Oh, so you're back now?” Adrian smiled, smug, and Marcus had to remind himself that he slept on Adrian's couch, so it would have been better not to punch him. And he was offering Marcus a beer, so he really shouldn't have gotten mad at the poor guy.

 

“I'm not paying for this.” Marcus said, picking up the bottle to drink from it.

 

Adrian shrugged. “I'll put it on the Scottish guy's tab, Snape won't even notice.” he replied, his smile not leaving his lips. He looked like the Cheshire Cat, and Marcus hated that knowing look. Ok, they had been friends for more than ten years, but that didn't give Adrian the right to read Marcus so well.

 

“Good to know you won't be sleeping on my couch tonight.” Adrian said while Marcus took a sip of the drink. Sly bastard. Marcus almost choked.

 

“For fuck's sake, Adrian, mind your business.”

 

Adrian smiled even more. “My best friend's well-being is my business, Marc.”

 

Marcus rolled his eyes. He hated that nickname. He wanted to reply something sarcastic to Adrian, but Snape called his friend. The younger boy moved from his seat, and Marcus returned to look at the Scottish beauty.

 

Flirty Fiddle was looking back at him with a dark look, but maybe that was only the lighting. The Snake wasn't exactly the best lit place, with its green atmosphere. It almost felt like they were underwater in a submarine, rather than in a pub.

 

Marcus kept drinking and looking at the fiddler, and sooner rather than later, the three brothers started to play on the small stage at the corner of the room.

 

Marcus appreciated the music. It wasn't exactly his favourite genre, and he only understood half of the lyrics, since the big guy was singing both in Scott and in English, but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever heard play at the Snake.

 

And the fiddler was good. He looked completely lost in what he was doing, in a way that Marcus could only describe as sexy. The guy had his eyes closed, his long neck exposed for everyone to see. And his hands... the sight was making Marcus restless, and not because he wanted to play his guitar.

 

The band played for an hour and a half. Almost two hours of torture for Marcus. Adrian had the bright idea to leave him alone to contemplate the fiddler. His friend really knew him well (not that Marcus was in any way aware of what was happening in the pub, apart from what the handsome Scotsman was doing).

 

Then the music ended, the singer thanked the audience and “Ollie and Steve” - so the handsome guy was either an Ollie or a Steve, uh – and with that, Snape put on the radio again. And Marcus waited.

 

In the dim light of the pub, Marcus saw a pair of hazel eyes look at him with so much fire his stomach started dancing the hula. He liked how the night was going.

 

The fiddler put his instrument quickly in the bag, and then after talking briefly with his brothers he went to sit in the boot next to Marcus.

 

“So,” the boy started, looking at everything but Marcus, “did you like it?”. It looked like he was containing his pride, because he had a small, silly grin on his face that told how pleased he was with himself and his performance.

 

“Meh,” Marcus said, “it's not really my kind of music. I guess you're alright.”

 

For once, Marcus decided to play hard to get, and keep their previous flirty banter on. He knew he really shouldn't – he wasn't exactly a beauty, he should have gone to the point quickly since it almost never happened to him, to meet a cute guy who somehow wanted to fuck him – but he enjoyed too much fucking around with the Scot.

 

The guy turned to face Marcus. “You think you can do better than me, Guitar Hunk?”

 

Marcus chuckled again at the nickname. “Wouldn't you want to know.” he smiled, flirty.

 

The Scot smiled at that, and Marcus somehow realized he said exactly what the other guy wanted to hear.

 

“Why don't you bring me to your place and play something for me?” he said, and then he bit his lower lip in what Marcus could only interpret as nervousness. A hot guy was nervous to ask him out. How did that even happen?

 

“I would if I could, but I kind of live on my friend's couch.” Marcus replied, pointing at Adrian behind the counter.

 

“Oh, so you live with him?” the boy asked, making Marcus smile even more.

 

“You jealous?”

 

“That depends on how much you  _ play  _ for him.” the guy said, in a way that made Marcus understand that he wasn't exactly talking about guitars.

 

“Oh, Adrian doesn't like my music.” Oh, the guy's smile was almost as beautiful as his ass.

 

“Well, if you don't wanna play with my brothers too, I suggest we find another solution.  _ Soon _ .”

 

Marcus couldn't stop grinning. Hot Dude was really interested. He couldn't believe his luck.

 

“There's a motel five minutes from here.”

 

“Good.” the guy got up quickly, his hot gaze never leaving Marcus. This was going to be fun.

 

Marcus followed the guy out of the pub, not before being taken by his free hand and twirled around a couple of times by the laughing Scotsman.

 

“The hell?”

 

“Sorry. I just wanted to dance a bit.”

 

*

 

The only sound in the smelly motel room was the guy's deep breath. He was definitely asleep, Marcus thought, soundly enough not to be woken up by him.

 

He still needed to play.

 

No matter how much some good sex could make him calm down, when he was in the mood he was restless until he played something. He decided that the motel room was a good place like any other, and he got out of the bed, looking for his boxers.

 

Once he got his underwear on, he took up his guitar from where he had left it when they got in in a rush. He was trying to make as little noise as possible, which was incredibly stupid because he was about to fucking play and sing, but somehow he didn't want to break the silence with mere noises. He wanted to break it with his music.

 

He sat on the floor, as far from the bed as he could. The feeling of his fingers on the cords gave him a shiver. Well, that could have been the cold floor too, but Marcus was sure that he was shivering for the excitement.

 

He had always been a brawny, scary guy, even as a kid. He didn't have many friends, because most of the people avoided him because of his looks. Not to mention that he was kind of an ass anyway. His personality sucked as much as his looks, he thought, if not even more.

 

But everything changed when he had a guitar in his hands. He almost transfigured, or at least he felt like he did. When he was putting together a song he didn't feel stupid like everyone said he was. When he was singing, he didn't feel as ugly as the mirror told him he was.

 

He felt like he was part of the music. He felt like he wasn't in his body anymore, like he was following the music up in the sky. He felt safe, stronger than his muscles made him. He felt good.

 

Marcus closed his eyes, and he let his fingers do their work.

 

“ _ Once I knew a girl as fair as a breeze, _

_ She told me 'Love is a mastermind, _

_ but Love is also stupid, Love is also blind, _

_ give Him less credit, He is not very kind.' _

 

_ The girl was strong as a mountain rock, _

_ But she had her heart broken so many times _

_ She thought her Heart was worth two dimes _

_ And she often cried for all His crimes. _

 

_ I don't know where she is, _

_ I don't know where she went, _

_ I hope she's found some solace, _

_ Hope she got rid of all her malcontent. _ ”

 

“Since you are singing something so sad, I guess I wasn't as good as I thought.” a voice croaked, scaring Marcus so much he jumped up.

 

The Scot was sitting on the bed, looking sleepy and incredibly beautiful. How could someone look that good in a dark, smelly, cheap motel room, Marcus had no idea.

 

“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up.”

 

“Yeah," the Scot snorted, not believing him, "and I didn't want to depress you.”

 

Marcus smirked, his fingers playing a cheerful melody.

 

“ _ Tonight I met a big flirt at the pub. _

_ He speaks English weird and he hit on me like a truck. _

_ With a body like that he should work in a night club, _

_ and he plays the fiddle as well as he fucks. _ ”

 

As Marcus sang, the guy started to laugh. “I guess I'll take that as a compliment then.”

 

Marcus grinned. He couldn't really tell, because the room was rather dark, but it looked like the guy was blushing. Cute.

 

Marcus stopped playing, and put his guitar down, deciding that maybe it was better to go back to the bed.

 

“Damn, I knew you were good, but that was actually great.” the Scot said. “The sad song, I mean. Even if I do appreciate you complimenting me.”

 

Marcus smiled, but then the words hit him. “Wait, what do you mean you knew I was good?”

 

The Scot shrugged. “I may or may not have watched a couple of your videos on YouTube. I didn't expect to see you at the pub, though.”

 

That didn't exactly make sense to Marcus. “I don't have a YouTube channel.”

 

“No you don't. But there's this chick, Granger, she has an entire channel dedicated to street artists around the country. You're one of my favourite.” the guy winked. Dammit, it was time to ask his name. Or maybe it was too late and it would be awkward.

 

Apparently, Marcus, taken aback, didn't speak for too long, so the Scot decided to fill the silence.

 

“You should come to Glasgow, you know. No offence, but Belfast is kind of a shithole, if you move you can have more opportunities than here.”

 

Marcus snorted. “Didn't you hear me when I said I sleep on my friend's couch? I am broke, at least here I have someone who puts a roof on my head.”

 

“Well, I have a couch too, you know.” the guy almost looked shy, nervous, more than he had ever looked that night. Flirty Fiddler was gone, leaving Fidgetty Fiddler behind.

 

“Do you realize that I don't even know your name? Why on Earth should I move in with you?” Marcus wanted to laugh. The proposal was just... too crazy for him. He had never been reckless, not when it came to important decisions. He was more calculating than brave.

 

And maybe he lost a couple of opportunities because of this. Sue him.

 

“I am Oliver. I am sorry but I guess it doesn't rhyme with much, so if you wanna write a song about me try to avoid mentioning it.”

 

Marcus laughed at that. “Knowing your name doesn't really make me wanna come live with you, idiot. What if you are a creep? For all I know, you stalked me.”

 

Oliver looked sheepish. “I didn't stalk you. And really, I didn't know you lived in Belfast. And I didn't even recognize you when you came out of the pub, I started talking to you only because I thought you had a nice butt.”

 

Ok, maybe Oliver was funny and cute. That didn't really make the situation any less creepy, or weird.

 

“Listen, I live with my brother Steve, but I'm pretty sure he's gonna leave me to go to live with his girlfriend soon, I need to find a roommate anyway.” Oliver sighed. “I know this is weird, and we just met, and I don't think that many people do this with the guys they pick up from the pub, but I really like you. As a musician. I could help you make a YouTube channel, and I know every place you can play at Glasgow. In exchange, you could write a nice song for me and my brothers, it's not like we are poets or anything.”

 

It was tempting, Marcus couldn't deny it.

 

“I'm kind of wounded that you said you only like me as a musician.” Marcus joked, to take time. He needed to think about Oliver's proposal. Or better, he needed to talk himself out of accepting it.

 

“I thought I expressed well enough how much I like you in bed before. I think the people on the third flood heard me too.” Oliver replied, and even though his voice was playful Marcus was sure he was blushing.

 

“I'll think about it, okay?” Marcus finally said. What did he had to lose, anyway? It wasn't like he would anger his parents. They were in London and they didn't talk to him already, it wasn't like moving to another city would change his relationship with them. He didn't have a job to leave, or a lover. The only person who would have missed him was Adrian, who would be happy for him though.

 

“I am Marcus, by the way.”

 

As he looked at Oliver's growing smile, Marcus felt like he didn't really have a choice but to follow the stupid Scot back to his city.

 

He didn't want to refuse an adventure, at least not that time.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks for everything to my beta [Nari](https://flint-wood.tumblr.com/) who also inspired the fic. This little thing is for you ;) 
> 
> Come and say [hi](https://writerrain.tumblr.com/) if you want :)


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